Those Dragon Eyes
by MistyInfinity
Summary: Feng Wei holds the Dragon Scrolls but not the true meaning of being a fighter.


**Disclaimer:** I am not the owners of all the trademarked characters used in this fan fiction.

**Author's Notes:** This is a partial canon, fighting oriented fan fiction. I think Feng Wei is interesting and I'm almost certain stories of him are scarce, if not then this will add to stories on him. If anything I know this one will be unique. Please Enjoy!

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_**Those Dragon Eyes**_  
Chapter One

Hwoarang lay at his feet ignoring the severity of the pain inflicted upon his body as he reach out his hand to grab Feng's ankle, pressing on to continue their fight. The smite on Feng Wei's face was a signature look of disgust that rendered any other emotion impossible to produce. His arms were crossed in front of him as Feng looked down at his battered opponent Hwoarang, who feign a strong ignorance of what defeat really meant.

Hwoarang cocked his head upwards, looking passed the golden green patterned sash around Feng's waist to see the repugnance reflected in Feng's eyes. Hwoarang held the right to loathe the man whose ankle he cling to. If their fight was a boxing match set for twelve rounds, then the fans who only witness a one round forty-nine second knockout were heated. And projected their hatred onto the combatants of having paid so much for a seat. Hwoarang didn't fight for the pleasure of an audience. Though the looming dejection from a quick defeat sent a scorching wave of outrage through his body, like it was being transferred to him by a thousand men and more.

It was this hatred that let him crawl, this hatred that forced him to run on empty. Feng felt the animosity between them watching it bubble knowing that magma rushing out of the volcano will soon cool once it obliterates everything in its path. Hwoarang reached for the sash around Feng waist to pull himself up. Feng kept silent waiting for Hwoarang's volcano to erupt and unleash the fierce energy to give him the intense fight he desired. A fight worthy of true praise regardless of the victor.

Hwoarang was on his feet but stumble back a bit though able to maintain a firm stance on the ground. His eyes were brimming with the resolve to come out on top. Those same eyes trying to mask Hwoarang's apprehension with their spirited glare. A job well done if not for Hwoarang's trembling hands. Uneasiness was just as Hwoarang was caught in the gaze of the man with dragon eyes. The dragon was a revered immortal in Chinese Mythology and this man Feng embodied it soul. Feng sensed Hwoarang's fear of him and took a delight in feeding upon it, mapping out his own movements in his head preparing to end this fight.

Dark clouds carrying unspent rain from the day before hide the glow of the sun. This cast away the shadows of the fighters, seeping away into the ground like the silhouettes returned to a world beyond the grave. For Hwoarang he was not going to be the one to join them, but up against an immortal he had difficulties thinking otherwise. Feng Wei's stare down with Hwoarang was but a few seconds until the rumble in the clouds signal a thunderstorm, and a new face made the scene.

"At it again I see."

The voice came from a man who Hwoarang recognized within the instant. His body ached and while turning Hwoarang lost his balance, and fell on one knee with the other leg trying to main a stance. The man behind him released a tired sigh and stepped closer to the fighters. He was an elderly man in fine physical shape sporting a tan fedora in matching suit resemble a Don or figure head in the criminal underworld. Coming in to clear view this man was no criminal but the Tae Kwon Doo Master Baek Doo San, a man whose wisdom ebbs and flows through the gray and black streaks of his beard.

From a stiffening facial expression to an overtaken momentous concern, Baek eyes crossed examined the wounded Hwoarang with speed that matched a computer's. No words left his mouth as his gaze relocated to the eyes of the Dragon Feng Wei. Feng's scowl further brutalized any hopes Feng had of smiling -- upset that his match was about to receive outside interference. Baek did not falter and show any fear. Like a gentlemen he removed his hat and placed it on the confused Hwoarang's head and stepped in front of him.

It was at that moment when the clouds weakened, and droplets of searing ice water graced their skins. Feng couldn't be dissuaded by the cold nor the rain, all challenges were accepted no matter what the cost. Baek stood with his feet inches apart ready to move into a offensive fighting stance when he felt a tug to his coat. It wasn't just that Hwoarang was a stubborn mule and wanted to finish his own battles, but in his eyes he held the same bit of concern Baek Doo San held for him.

"Master please I'll finish him. Don't waste your time," Hwoarang says.

Just hearing Hwoarang rasp that heroic line gave Baek the urge to kick him himself. "You never learn do you? Don't you understand anything?" Baek asked in spite of the proof being the rhetoric Hwoarang just mentioned. Out of the principal Baek held the right to give Hwoarang this stern angry lecture. "You can barely move and wish to continue to fight with this man? Learn your limits or it will be the death of you!"

Feng Wei in a odd sense was taken by Baek's last words. Watching their squabble was akin to father bailing his son out of another shameful predicament. The rain was falling at a faster pace like someone turned up the dial on a shower, except to Feng it felt more like someone flushed the toilet while he was in the shower. In a painstaking flash to his memory logs a battle ensues in a Temple Hall. Something turned on the projector displaying the black and white film as this memory was not to some extent Feng's doing.

The next image to cross his mind was of Feng's master being dropped from the top of the staircase outside the temple. His body tumbling all the way down the stairs, lifeless and defeated. It was a death that marked a change in Feng Wei's attitude or proved a change was there. The death of a master whose teachings were a timeless message of building upon one's inner strength. In his quest to secure the sacred scrolls Feng Wei had all but ignored the principles of being a fighter, knowing only that he wanted to be the best. But why?

What was this need to be the very best fighter out there all about? Many things. For the ambitious Feng it once meant that all the time spent practicing and perfecting his art would give him world recognition, give him immortality. Feng Wei surpassed the ideals that studying martial arts was a lifelong dedication to mastery, by persevering to be a top ranking student in his dojo in record setting pace. Being at the top was lonely, but the need for companionship was outweighed by desire for strength, that made survival needs seem less dire than they were.

There wasn't much competition in his dojo. Fighting the weak to Feng meant that he was the strongest of the weak and not a measure of true strength. He had to find someone out there to fight to display that his power was unmistakable. If that meant venturing out to fight opponents from other dojos and break the rules so be it. The end justifies the means. It was only a matter of time before his Master intervened, but the old man ascertain Feng's hunger for power. And since he engage Feng in a fight to solve it, it was certain that this need was insatiable. So for his ignorance the decrepit old man was spared his delusional existence.

One old man after another fell at Feng Wei's hands with Jinpachi being the last, relinquishing from his grasp the sacred scroll of the "God's Fist". It was what he sought out for, what Feng wanted most. The power and strength to become the great fighter than ever lived and an immortal. He became the man with eyes of a Dragon. Every battle after was a sexual encounter without the pleasure it brings, pointless. Feng didn't have to flex his muscles or even dread the idea of perspiring from fights that lasted seconds not worth counting.

Each one Feng Wei hoped for someone who could deliver the esctasy of being in a heart pounding fight, but none surface. Much like now it was a series of disappointments waiting for him. Feng could hold back his strength and rely only on basic Kenpo techniques but even that didn't help. His opponents were dolls in his hands that could stand on their own but not do much else. Fighting them in numbers didn't soothe his anger these common thugs drop like flies one after the other hitting the bug light. Feng Wei went out of his way to seek the former combatants of the King of Iron Fist Tournament. Though none proved worthwhile.

Dragon Eye's blinding the road ahead of him fueled his resentment of the scrolls that lay hidden under his sash. One can just assume that being the most powerful fighter in the world was just not...fun. Not that Feng Wei was capable of having his jovial feelings reflect in his face, he like any other person enjoys having fun. Fun was studying Kenpo and surprising his master with his progress. Fun was the expressions of wonder from the pupils and on-lookers as Feng demonstrated his fighting prowess. Fun was killed by the ambition – no, by the premonition that fun would not last as someone is destined to surpass and knock Feng off his perch.

As Feng opened his eyes to see his respectful opponent Baek and Hwoarang stand side by side waiting for his acknowledgment. Heavy in thought, did Feng not notice their conversing had long since eroded. Feng Wei's face remained the same serious but wicked smite that it was during his fight with Hwoarang. He didn't let the realization force a shocked Weng to come out of his iron casted shell. Though the price he payed to make his hollow ambition a reality, staked heavy in his heart, Feng did not let the guilt echo throughout his body.

"We can begin whenever you are ready," Baek said breaking the silence. Hwoarang had his hand on his stomach leaning inward in a hunch, inching away from the battlefield seemingly heeding Baek's words to him.

Feng Wei took a deep breath and eased out a light exhale hearing resounding footsteps in his head. He dropped his arms to his sides briefly. Feng in an almost immediate reflex, held both hands in front of him at the very moment the sounds of footsteps ceased. Causing some just befuddlement to Detective Lei Wulong who ran up to him holding handcuffs in his hands.


End file.
